Last of the Survivors?

Written for:  The Sunday Muse #247
Written for:  The Sunday Muse #247

Thinking they were done
with virus-protection
masks, the Andersons
find themselves breathing
through hoses, their faces
and heads smoldering
under enforced Federal
mandate wear.  The Andersons
do not know how many others
have survived, or when
their tanks will run out.
Robotic-like, they continue
lumbering along a strange
path, wondering if life
might now be pointless.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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12 Responses to Last of the Survivors?

  1. wyndolynne says:

    A question that continues to echo.


  2. Carrie V. H. says:

    The thoughts at the end really hit the reader. A great response to the image Sara! I hope you have a wonderful week my friend!


  3. poetisatinta says:

    great piece, I chose this image too – must be something in the air! 🙂


  4. coalblack says:

    And then she says, muffled by her mask, “Kiss me, you mad fool!”



  5. Gillena Cox says:

    Interesting dystopian mood for this photo.



  6. Jim says:

    I hope they don’t run out of oxygen supply any time soon.
    But that’s the way the COVID treated folk, like you wrote. Having had two shots and two boosters, Mrs. Jim and I caught it on a cruise. I still can’t smell, except brewing coffee. Nor can I taste except for really good chocolate. I think it also messed up my memory and balance, I have a doctor appointment for that. Oh yes, gobs of mucus, from my lungs, throat, and mouth, also my sinuses, that I never had before. That was last March that we had it.


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